


Cartaphilus

by YsaX64



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Altean History, Angst, Blood and Violence, Dubious Morality, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Galran History, How much worldbuilding can you put on a fic before it gets weird?, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Learning to trust, Moral Dilemmas, Non canon compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Starts shortly after Blood Duel, Swearing, Unholy amount of flashbacks, Violence, Worldbuilding, slowburn, the answer is yes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-06-30 00:50:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15740748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YsaX64/pseuds/YsaX64
Summary: Triumphant at last.The battle was long and well-fought. In the end, Lotor succeeded as his father perished on the ground.During years of persistence and persevering, Lotor had dreamed of this very day. Dwelling on these thoughts over and over, even if not always with the perspective of winning.Now that it finally happened, Lotor couldn't avoid himself any longer. Now that the wrath nestled inside him was gone, the Galran Prince was lost.However, luckily for Lotor, he would find himself another guiding light, one that may finally usher an era of peace for him and for the Universe.





	1. In Mourning

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy. This was written out of spite after s7, but I ended up developing the idea, enough to post it. I decided to start soon after Blood Duel because no one seems to really develop this very dark turning point in Lotor's life, even though it was obviously very impactful in general. So, enjoy it.

Lotor didn't know what he expected that would happen once he fought with his father. Surely winning wasn't on his plans. But there he was. The Galra Prince stood victorious in front of his dying father. The quintessence, purple and toxic, mixed with the blue blood of the Galra, tarnished the ground of this sole planet.

For many nights, on his exile, he had fantasized about this moment.

When would he be able to fight against his father once more. He imagined how glorious he would feel. Even if Lotor also wondered if he would ever be able to stand against him, it did not matter, for the temptation of the sole chance he had was too great. Lotor, the exiled half-breed, fantasizing for endless nights about committing the worst of sins. Patricide. For the traditional Galrans, this sinful procedure was unthinkable. His own kind, the one that had given him the irreplaceable prize of life. Even after so many years, long since the honored Galra had walked upon this soil, he knew that this would be the judgment presented to him.

Gazing at his father's dying light, the purple glow in his eyes fading away, he did not fear the sin that would forever maculate his name.

What agonized his mind was the emptiness.

The Galra Prince did not wish to feel this way. It could be merciful and noble, but this idea offered him no rest. If he, in the very least, had felt any pleasure for finally bringing the ultimate judgment to his father, Lotor had long ago told himself then he would bear his sins with nobility. It would have been the only comfort for him, whose own existence was a shameful disgrace to the gods. Or so he had thought.

Instead, Lotor raised his head to look upon the results. The Galra were retreating, confused at the loss of their leader. He could almost feel the silence installed in there, inside those metallic vessels. Who would have thought? The weak, measly half-breed that had picked up his sword against the Lord of the Known Universe and even managed to survive. This disgraceful shame to the greatest Emperor in Galra history had bested his father. He looked around once more.

His former generals, fleeing in a ship.

The Lions, halting in the air as the Galran Fleet escaped.

Then he heard the solid thump behind him. Lotor didn't have to see what had happened to know that it was the sound of his father armored body hitting the ground. The sound echoed, the joints of the armor clanking against itself but it didn't last as long as Lotor wished it had. The Lions were taking ground and, for the first time in this battle, his adrenaline went down enough so he could feel his legs almost giving up.

His left side was hurting, however, not as much as he wished it was.

Lotor would be left with ugly bruises, some bleeding scratches, but what was gnawing his heart was the frustration. He proceeded to turn his back on the stationed Lions. The pilots would soon appear to retrieve him, he had assumed. However, his mind was wandering.

He felt out of his own body as if this fleshy vessel was too constraining for the conflict instilled inside. Zarkon wasn't in the reach of the witch, to taint him once more, to bring him back from the jaws of death. Upon closer inspection, the armor was designed to pump quintessence into his body in a constant flow and Lotor questioned if the man would have even been able to survive out of it. The thought disgusted the Galra Prince as if the defiance the witch insisted to have against natural order didn't have any limits.

Lotor walked, feeling his back hurting. He lowered his body, closing the distance between him and the dead man. The fallen Bayard was lying on the ground and the Galra Prince had to kneel to pick it up, while still dwelling on his own thoughts. The empty sensation was more horrid than imaginable. The pathetic, measly half-breed that his father despised had killed many times in his life. There was always a certain feeling that came to surface once he took a life, depending solely on whom he had killed. But there was always something to grasp on to, however, as Lotor stood upon one of the worst of his many sins, devoid of anything to hold himself to, he couldn't help but muse to himself about his father's fate.

His ears picked up the faint sound of the Paladins' footsteps.

Lotor stood up once more, holding the Bayard in one hand. There was something ancient about the weapon, which made him feel his blood running through his veins. He wondered if it was the magic infused in it or the acknowledgment that this weapon once was his father's. It was a comforting sensation amid the void in his mind, he had to acknowledge that much. It was short-lived, however, as the Paladins reached closer.

Lotor could hear them. There wasn't a word spoken, nevertheless, he could feel the hesitance and the bewilderment. First, the Green and Yellow Paladins. The two most curious ones. Then, the Red Paladin, accompanied by the Black and Blue Paladin, the Princess. All of their eyes were on the dead corpse in front of him. Lotor didn't even need to turn to them to know this. The untamed strand of hair grazed his face, snapping him out of his own mind for a moment.

He turned on his back, facing the incredulous Paladins of Voltron. He faced directly the Black Paladin, who had positioned himself in the middle of the team, and began walking towards him. Each step was a fight on itself as he questioned himself if they expected this outcome. It most certainly looked like they had as much faith in him as his father. However, that was no fretting matter. He had had worse. Once he and the human were face to face, Lotor's towering height evident against even the taller of the group, he handed the fated weapon back to its owner and bowed down slightly, his hand in a fist on his chest in gratitude.

Once he stood back, everything after that became a blur. In the future, he would recall one of the human Paladins congratulating him in whispers. Which one, he was unable to discern anymore.

The Castle of Lions eventually came back to rescue them.

One of the human Paladins had asked if there was anything on his ship of importance. In the future, Lotor would be torn if it was the Black or the Yellow one who asked, but it was surely one of them. His memory failed him in this aspect. He was escorted back to his Sincline ship, alongside the Red Paladin and the Green Paladin. They were barely more than children and he was fully aware of how painfully easy could have been to flee. However, it would have been counterproductive, so he brushed away the rebellious thought. He picked up his broadsword, as Acxa had left for him. The Paladins seemed alarmed, but neither Lotor nor the pair raised arms, so the tension was meaningless.

The pain was barely noticeable now. Not because the wounds that his father had inflicted weren't painful by themselves, nor because of any regret regarding his sin of patricide. But because of the agonizing lack of the feeling of accomplishment Lotor had longed for. It was so overwhelming that it was easy to forget the physical pain. He had had worse than those phantom like aches. Had worse by the hands of the same man, of his own kin and of many other enemies in his life.

The realization hit Lotor as he wandered, guided by the Black Paladin through the cyan blues of the hallways. The mighty Emperor Zarkon now was barely more than a scaly shell, trapped inside an armored coffin that had pumped unholy quintessence to bring him back from his deathbed, disgraced by his own shame of a son, dethroned by his own half-breed offspring. The list could go on and on, but none of those indignities would have brought back the raging fire Lotor had held against him for so many years. The wrath that had urged his will to live for so long was gone.

"She will guide you to your new room."

The grave voice of the Black Paladin shook him out of his thoughts. In the future, he would mourn his lack of any other memories than the others already mentioned of that aftermath. As the years went by, Lotor had made making memories a priority. It was too easy to lose himself in his thoughts and miss the present moment. So he turned his face to the Princess Allura of Altea.

She stood in front of him, unaware of how her own existence was a defiance to many established concepts he had about Altea. Unfortunately, it was clear that the respect wasn’t mutual, not that this was any news for him. He had lived many years of prejudice because of his Altean and Galran sides alike. Some moments more did not matter. Her expression was unreadable; nevertheless, the lack of clear distrust and general disgust was already better than what she had subjected him before. Gathering his shreds of an upbringing, he curled his hand into a fist and brought it to his chest, bowing down in respect to the authority in charge.

"Thank you, Princess."

Her prejudice against his heritage was blatant as Lotor caught a glimpse of surprise. His gesture of submission was inherently Galran in shape and form, so seeing it directed to her must have been a surprise. Nonetheless, Allura kept her thoughts about it to herself, a sign that he could only assume to be an improvement. She was still wearing her pink flight suit, he noticed, as it was only natural to keep her armor around him. Even if she seemed composed, her own voice betrayed her. "It is the least we can do to repay for your help," she sighed the words. Strained. Maybe overwhelmed. Lotor stood back up, straightening his back to regain his own pose.

The knockback to reality worked this time, as Allura signed with her hand, leading him along the dimly lit hallways. The Black Paladin, instead, did not accompany the pair, turning on his back to meet with the other humans.

Nevertheless, it helped little the tense atmosphere between the two. Allura guided him alongside the infinite halls, a few steps ahead as Lotor controlled his pace. He had already learned better than to defy the authority in the room, without a plan, at very least. Moreover, for now, it would be for the best to keep the silence.

If the Altean Princess could tolerate his presence and trust him in the moments that mattered, it would be enough.

Instead, he decided to focus on the ship surrounding him. Lotor could hear the hum of the engines, faint and distant. He was more than aware of the advanced Altean technology, but the Galra Prince hardly had the opportunity of finding many fully functioning devices. At best, he had found tiny functioning ships and gigantic broken ships.

So it was the moment to cherish the opportunity. If the Altean Princess did not desire to talk to him, it was more than enough for him that she trusted him enough to walk alone with him, while he was armed. Although he was fairly certain that if she decided to attack him right now, he would not come off on top, it was an undeniable display of trust that she gave him on walking forward, alone and with her back turned to him while he holds his sword in one hand. This repetitive thought calmed Lotor's nerves, as he convinced himself that this moment was important.

Nonetheless, Lotor paid more attention to his surroundings. If he were to have free reign over this place, it would be important to note a few key locations. A hallway in which seemed to be the main rooms, the ones in which the Paladins slept, to judge by the Yellow Paladin slouched against a door. An Altean training deck. A medical wing.

The Princess halted her steps, turning to face Lotor. Her jaw was tense and her brows furrowed slightly, although he could see underlines of concern in her blue and pink eyes. That reaction humored his own incoherent mind. "If you so wish, we have more than enough facilities to accelerate your healing process. The battle must have taken a heavy toll on your body, so feel free to use the medical wing as you desire," she suggested, and as Lotor did not reply, the Princess softly continued. "There is no need to feel obligated to; however I would like to show our appreciation for your actions towards peace."

This time, Lotor answered her almost immediately. "Thank you, Princess Allura, I am grateful for your hospitality, but I am afraid it would be for the best if I just rested. My wounds are not life-threatening nor crippling," he didn't expect to come off as cold, but it had already been done. Not like it mattered, since the Altean Princess did not react at all. He wondered if she expected his refusal. So, he elaborated. "Although the Empire will be caught off guard with the death of Zarkon, it should be noted that this moment of surprise won't be long and therefore we should make use of it wisely."

Lotor's choice of words was deliberate. He had had years to master the art of words. So he made use of it in the only way he knew how. Her response was slower and he could still feel the wariness in her words. "So be it. I will be guiding you to your new room, as promised. Soon I and the Paladins will gather in the command room, however, until then, you're free to do as you wish," she said defensively.

Lotor soon noticed his mistake.

It wasn't hard to see that she despised his very blood. The Princess had made it very clear since their moments of interrogation in prison. That wasn't new to Lotor, however, he still had a vague hope that it could change after his many acts of evident submission and desire for peace. Therefore, he kept himself quiet. She was the authority in this group, one willing to work alongside him, one that had bested him before, in Thayserix.

If she had so many preconceived notions about his race that his arguments would fall on deaf ears, he would let her find her own descent. Lotor did not wish for this destiny to her, even if he was perfectly aware of their frail alliance, but he knew better than to confront her.

The rest of the walk was short, the humming of the ship was all that his ears were focusing. After she came to another sudden halt, Lotor found himself in a hallway, full of doors. Of course, rooms for temporary crewmembers. Nothing more fitting. The Princess, with a touch, unlocked the door. He wondered if she could do that always, even if it was locked from the inside. Instinctively, he flinched, his jaw tensing as he suppressed a growl. Lotor's free hand curled up, his claws digging into his palm even through the fabric of the bodysuit. However, the Galra Prince managed to keep his face straight, as she didn't seem to notice his short reaction. He would not have to discover if she could if he didn't give her any reason to do so, he rationalized.

Princess Allura turned to face him, her shoulders raising slightly, her breath stopping in its tracks. She wanted to say something but did not. Lotor questioned if he should test the limits of his reach and ask her. Wary, he decided not to. It was of unquestionable priority to keep himself in check. Although the Galra Prince knew of the importance of his own status, he was not foolish enough to take a risk while on her good graces.

Lotor quietly entered his quarters and looked around. A bed, clearly not designed for someone his size. Storage for personal items, not that he had many. A bathroom. Access to a holographic display. He had to analyze that later. A sigh echoed in the room, followed by the sound of a few steps back. Then the door closing. His ears twitched slightly, as he put his blade down in the storage compartment.

Lotor was alone in the room. The only vague sounds were the hum of the ship and the decreasing sound of the Princess' footsteps. Soon, the steps disappeared.

Then the reverberations of the moving castle were the only things to keep him company. In such lack of stimuli in the silence, Lotor was hyperaware of each rhythm of the ship. It was easier to hold himself in this clear, soothing sound than to let himself delve into the silence. In the stillness, as he had learned a long time ago, it was easier to lose himself. Memories were sharp, alluring blades that would always find a way to cut you once you get too close. Even when you think the time has dulled the edge, they always find a way to cut you.

Instead, he straightened his back and quietly started looking forward. Yes, that is what he had to do. Although it was undeniable that the burden on his back didn't felt any lighter after his father's death, he would not yield. Each step was a step closer to peace. So he would walk forward. Even if upon Zarkon’s body.

Mechanically, he forced himself to consider the next steps. His back hurt and so did his left side of the chest, but those aches are manageable. Primarily, he had to take a bath and maybe rest for some time, before meeting once more with the Paladins to analyze his next step. No, their next step, he corrected himself. Despite his physical autonomy granted by the spilled blood, it would be imprudent to act by himself, as the Princess made very clear that part of her was still suspicious.

First, he opened the bathroom door. The bright white lights hurt his sensible eyes. Once his vision adapted to the sudden change of lighting, Lotor was greeted by the mirror and almost did not recognized whomever he saw. His ivory hair was spilled along his shoulders, his armor was dirty, but not torn. His cheeks were murky and some untamed strands grazed his dark face. Unknown, yet familiar blue eyes stared him back. He knew that once took off his armor, bruises in his back and on his chest would appear. But the Galra Prince was otherwise unchanged.

Ironically, even if looking at a mirror for long wasn't a privilege Lotor indulged often, he felt strangely attracted by the image.

It wasn't a vain act. On the contrary, it was almost uncomfortable, to know how much he had changed mentally, yet his body insisted on this stagnation. The same face after so much time. His body was unchanged for so long. No matter his age, he was still a child in their eyes, because no matter how much he got older, his body had stopped a long time ago.

But to delve into those thoughts would be imprudent and impulsive.

It was way too easy to get lost on himself in the silence.

So Lotor tried to pick up once more the distant rhythm of the engines. The vibration, distant yet constant. It was easier to hold himself to it. So recalled to himself what to do next.

First, take a bath and look presentable. He would need everything he had to convince the Paladins of his plans, using arguments. It was clear that there was an uneasy air between them, but Lotor would have to put that aside. He went back to the room and locked the front door using the holographic display. In a quick musing, he appreciated the Altean technology that was infused in every place.

Second, he had to focus on the next threats. To focus on this last battle would doom him if he let the hubris inhabit him. These words echoed in his mind meaninglessly. It was what Lotor once, in his lonely exile, had repeated to himself in his fantasies. Ironically, there was no pride because of the blood spilled. His father was dead, but as Lotor was trapped in between the lack of this looming figure in his mind and the void where once his fury was nestled, he didn't felt like that much was gained. He entered the bathroom once more, locking the door.

Overthinking.

Lotor's ears twitched as he let out a sigh. It was hard to focus once you have achieved an objective. He knew his work was far from over; still, it was hard to focus on the actual task. Unfortunately, he had planned to be overtly proud of his sin, not to dwell on it vaguely like a fool.

So he took a deep breath and started stripping himself of his armor, back facing the mirror. First, the arm piece of his left. Although he had to periodically strip himself of his armor for hygiene, it wasn't a comfortable idea to do so in a strange place. Furthermore, the thought that it was very possible that the Altean Princess could unlock all of those doors if she wanted to was unsettling.

Rationally, Lotor knew that, for now, he had given her no reasonable motive to try to do so, she had explicitly told him to "feel free" just some moments prior. Even the fact that he just thought of the possibility of a noble Altean Princess opening the door of a man's room seemed illogical.

Nonetheless, upon opening the bathroom door and checking if he had closed the front door once more, Lotor went to the storage and picked up his sword. It was nothing personal against the Princess at that point; it was just a reassurance for Lotor to have his weapon close to reaching.

Settling the blade just beside the shower, he locked the bathroom door once more and uneasily kept striping out of his armor. The rasping of the claws, beneath the fabric and clashing against the metal, was an unsettling noise, filling up his mind. His brow furrowed as Lotor let a low growl escape. He went for the right arm piece, then the chest piece. Putting the first parts aside, Lotor felt as if he was already naked and vulnerable, even if he was still on his bodysuit. The pattern of the ship's constant noise was in the back of his mind, as he reached for his waist, putting the piece aside in an instant. Then he got rid of his boots, settling everything in a neat pile.

A shiver ran his spine as his feet touched the cold floor. Clawed toes were grazing the white tiles, as they made an awful sound that seemed to echo in the tiny space. Lotor had to amuse himself that if anyone saw him on this pitiful stage, they would think that someone he held dearly had just died, considering how absent-minded he was.

Then the frustrating epiphany hit him.

He was yielding to his untamed mind.

The thought annoyed him; this lack of control over himself caused a flick of rage to rise up. He curled his fists to a punch, his claws almost ripping the resistant fabric of the bodysuit. With his brows furrowed, he furiously made a question to himself. Why he had to introspect so much at this point? He had just defeated an enemy, nothing more. A sin more to add to his generous supply. If anything, the difference was in that it was a bigger opponent he had defeated, one that had made a dent in the Galra Empire for good. Lotor started fumbling with his tight bodysuit.

Yes, it was better this way.

But, of course, there were still others threats to deal with. Sendak, a close commander of his father, would not hesitate to snatch the control from his fingers. He had disappeared for a while, but bastards always came back. Ranveig could be a candidate too if he managed to keep his head on the shoulders. Gnov was overly proud, but with many, many connections. As his mind raced, set ablaze by the raging thoughts, Lotor stripped out of his bodysuit, letting the cold graze his damaged skin.

The incoming Kral Zera. He wondered if that rag of a man that was the Archivist still remember his speeches after so long. Lotor was now standing fully naked in this foreign bathroom, heading to the shower. However, now his mind was set on the most dangerous player of all.

The witch, Haggar.

It was not like Lotor ever thought she would get her filthy hands out of the power of the Galra Empire. The very fact that she had unyieldingly stayed at Zarkon's side, despite his father's tendency to tantrums, was proof that the witch was never going to give it up completely. As the cold water grazed his damaged skin, Lotor stilled his thoughts. A low growl rumbled in his chest, out of frustration.

He didn't know what she was going to do.

Upon this realization, the Galra Prince had to resign and recollect himself. It was pointless to dwell on what he didn't know for too long. Right now, the issue that had to be addressed was the upcoming Kral Zera and his physical state, which had been neglected up until now.

Methodically, Lotor looked down and analyzed his physical state. Running along his left side, in his ribs, there was a large bruise, which was of such dark blue coloring that seemed almost black. Upon closer inspection, running the pad of his fingers carefully and pressing against the wound gently, it was clear that it was nothing to be particularly worried about. No broken ribs or any enduring damage that would matter in any incoming battle.

Lotor looked around and easily identified more hygiene products. He humored himself by wondering if those were put there 10 thousand years ago. Nonetheless, he reluctantly picked up the soap and started rubbing the dirt and sweat out of his body. Walking around was a pain for his damaged back, but another quick inspection and he could deduce that it was nothing to be that worried about. It would disappear in some days, at best.

During the short duration of his cleaning process, Lotor tried to keep himself focused on his own body. Counting down every scar was an easy way of doing so. It was an uneasy reminder of his long life, but one that he could hold himself to. Once, someone told him that a man with few scars was meek and that one with many was abrasive. Upon his disgraced frame, the half-Galra wondered in which group he would fit in.

The number of scars he had would be unusual for even a mighty commander. Of course, most mighty commanders didn't live as much as he did, for one reason or another. Some of the scars were tiny and would be inconspicuous, had they not been of brown coloring, an undeniable signal of his heritage. Others, especially the ones that run on his chest, had been closed and reopened many times, enough so the skin there was jagged and mangled. Many were fading, diminished by time.

Then, Lotor's fingers grazed the underside of his chin.

A very faint horizontal ridge could still be felt. Lotor had gained that scar when he was little more than a boy. Unlike many of the others, which were grim reminders of suffering and pain, this one was bittersweet. Not a happy memory, nor a sad one. He closed his eyes or once, drifting back into the past, into his memories. The cold water running through his hair, dripping alongside his damaged body. He, for once, allowed the memories to come back, this one that he had recollected so many times to know exactly why he preferred this one.

It was just worth remembering.


	2. Curiosity...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the feedback, all the comments are appreciated.  
> Whoof.  
> Now that was a long flashback. I should warn everyone that there will be a lot of flashback focused chapters and that most of them will be longer than the normal ones.  
> That being said, enjoy the fruits of my labor.

_"The 28th Blood Emperor, Syndok the Unbound, was so named because he was the first in centuries to start regaining the planets that were lost to the Rangifer Empire… Correct your posture."_

_The swift sound of the switch cutting through the air echoed in the room, as a young Lotor moved fluidly just a step aside to avoid it. The boy scarcely seemed to be anything more than a child, with his short white hair barely reaching the line of his chin, but he was keen on correcting his pose while holding the weights. Dayak, his governess, curtly got back to her usual positioning, but not before muttering._

_"Very well."_

_The boy then returned to his original position, straightening his back and holding the weights. The Governess continued her lesson._

_"As I was saying, Emperor Syndok was keen in the art of war, as he used the Killing Stroke technique in an innovative way. Instead of utilizing heavy Cruisers that slowed down his progress, he concentrated his forces on tiny fleets, which were swifter in battle and in marching. Upon doing this, Syndok and his trusted commanders were able to outrun the Rangifere formations, causing chaos upon their lines and-"_

_A loud snort echoed in the training room. In the back, two Galras, apparently lieutenants, were sitting on the floor and playing some sort of card game. Both had purple colored fur, but the one that was laughing had it longer, sloppier. The second one, that had a frustrated snarl on his face, was still unkempt but managed to style his fur into a mane. The young half-breed cringed with the laugh, as his governess' stance turned rigid. The Galra that had snorted was holding just one card on his hairy hand, laughing loudly as his partner let out a growl of frustration with seven cards._

_They were the twins. Lotor winced as his governess interrupted his lesson to walk towards the two._

_Their official position was as Lotor's retainers. Murzak and Tohdak. In reality, they served little purpose. Their state was due to a political indication, a noble commander that desired a position for his inept twins that did not carry his strategic prowess. Dayak approached the pair with a fervor in her eyes._

_Before they could even detect her, the switch swung in the air, causing a crack to echo in the now silent room. But not for long, as the one that was hit let out a cry in pain. Dayak's fervor didn't stop._

_"You two dishonor both I and your Prince. If this unrestrained behavior continues, you two shall face consequences of your conduct."_

_The second twin, Tohdak, the unlucky one, easily identified for being the one with a scar on his left eye, let out a groan._

_"Wait, he was the one saying shit, why do I-"_

_He was cut short by another crack._

_"Do not use your vulgar, despicable language in the Prince's presence."_

_Murzak let out a short laugh. Dayak's rage subsided as the two seemingly stayed quiet for a short while, before continuing their bickering more silently and Lotor, who had hunched forward due to weariness, straightened his back once more. His governess circled around him, analyzing his positioning._

_"Your legs are too separated."_

_Lotor gritted his teeth as he braced for the hit this time. The strike corrected his position, but he received no praise as Dayak apathetically kept going with her lesson._

_"Syndok's strategies were vital for the formation of Galran Fleets as we see today. His approaches were extremely functional against the rigid formations of the Rangiferians. A guerilla-styled warfare that relied on fluidity and agility to sever the stances of their fleets. During a long war, Syndok managed to free seven previously Galran-controlled planets that were under Rangifere domain. How is the state of the Rangifer Empire as of today?"_

_Lotor's governess had the habit of making questions. Lotor had to be quick or get hit, as he had learned towards all of her teachings._

_"The Rangiferes are a race of magic-users. They rely too much on their magic and psychics abilities. Therefore, in long-ranged warfare, they are still far behind. Their empire has never recovered from the blows received in Zyndok and Vrig's reigns, that halted and limited their options. However, to underestimate their power is a mistake, as they have been able to deflect my father's advances up until now. Even though they have lost a lot of planets, it is impossible to deny that they are keen on maintaining their advantages that is their magical prowess."_

_Dayak seemed pleased with the answer, as Lotor proudly recited his prior lessons on the art of war. His arms were shaking slightly by the heaviness of the weights, but his face betrayed no pain. His cobalt blue eyes stared directly at the woman, fully confident in his response. The Galran Governess finished her speech._

_"Yes, indeed. Syndok's death happened in a crossfire with the Rangiferes, in which he personally commanded a fleet in spear-like formation, despite the advice of his own subordinates that it was a mistake. Emperor Syndok's words on the matter beforehand were ‘A leader that's not willing to die for his cause is no Galra. I will rise to the occasion of our new Empire.' His sacrifice in that battle guaranteed the Rangiferes' retreat and solidified the position of the Galra Empire. However, it was not without consequence or cost. The next Kral Zera was held having as candidates…"_

_Dayak hesitated for a second. The twins stopped their arguing. It was just for a few seconds, but the Prince was keen to notice. Each twin turned to the governess, fluffy ears going up as their bright yellow eyes widened attentively, but the governess was unreadable._

_"… Vokin, Syndok's legitimate son, Loksar, The Mudblood and Syndok’s bastard child, and Vrig, The Great, who would become the 29th Emperor of the Galra Empire. For today, your lesson is finished; you can relax your stance."_

_Not even the sound of the weights that Lotor shamelessly dropped on the floor muffled the groans of the disappointment of the two retainers. Tohdak threw his seven cards into the air and to say that his jaw dropped was an understatement. Murzak, on the other hand, was quite literally pulling his fur out. Lotor did not let slip the fact that Murzak had just blatantly looked at his twin whole hand, but it was clear they were not going to continue playing. Dayak kept her composure and continued dishing instructions._

_"Prince Lotor, your lessons shall continue once you come back from your visit to Planet Feyiv. We will be starting out of the Kral Zera in the aftermath of Blood Emperor Syndok's death."_

_Murzak, the lucky one, the one with the shaggier fur on his head and face, was the first one to voice his complaints, as Tohdak grunted and picked all his scattered cards back._

_"Did we really just fucking sat here for four hours so you won't talk about the fun part?"_

_Indeed, Lotor had just noticed. Murzak and Tohdak never participated in his lessons. Normally they would just wander close to the door or entertain themselves. Why would they decide on this specific day then? Dayak did not help to answer Lotor's unspoken question._

_"Stop using this vulgarity of yours. As I said, his lessons will be continued once he comes back from Planet Feyiv, to conduct his own Ralze Firka."_

_Even Tohdak picked up that the usual fervor in the woman's voice was gone. Gathering the remaining cards, the scarred twin complained to his brother._

_"Well, I bet she isn't even going to say it."_

_Dayak did not make a move to smack the two this time. Instead, she carried the weights that Lotor had so unceremoniously dropped, and ignored the annoyed pair._

_"Prince Lotor, you're dismissed," Now she turned to the twins, that were getting up, out of the floor. Tohdak cracked his back. "You two are going to take him to his quarters. He has to rest for his ceremony in Feyiv."_

_Lotor was intrigued, however, he knew better than to complain. "Yes, Dayak."_

_The twins opened the door of the training room, standing tall with some shreds of dignity. Lotor walked out, as the duo followed soon behind, leaving the governess alone._

_Sentries walked around in the heated hallways, as the half-breed and the two misfits made their way to the Prince's quarters. Most of it was unexpectedly silent. The two didn't talk much, which was unusual in itself, more so after such weird interactions with the governess._

_Lotor could be intelligent, but he was still a child, so his curiosity ended up prevailing._

_"Hm, Murzak?" Lotor whispered and the lucky twin had to perk an ear up to hear the child._

_"Yeah?"_

_"What did you mean by fun part?"_

_Lotor's voice was low but inquisitive. In contrast, the laugh that busted out of the lucky twin managed to startle a passing sentry._

_"Well, kid. I will tell you a story, ok? It isn't going to be the one you're asking about, but I bet you're going to fucking like it. Isn't it, Tohdak?"_

_Tohdak, on the other hand, seemed hopelessly lost._

_"Which one you talking about?"_

_Lotor turned his head back just slightly, catching a glimpse of Murzak glaring intently and gesturing with his hands for emphasis. After a few steps, Tohdak's eyes lighted up, the scar just below his eye distending slightly._

_"Oh. I got you, my brother. Yeah, yeah. Yeah. He isn't going to like it at all actually."_

_"I didn't ask you that, brother."_

_Tohdak grunted and landed a punch on Murzak, who cheerfully laughed it off. Lotor was used to the pair's futility and normally let them be, but the curiosity of the young boy was taking the best of him today._

_"Hm, Murzak," The boy paused and came to a halt. A young Lotor almost hit, face first, his chamber's door. He knew that now he would be left by himself, so it was his only last gambit of boldness. "So, what about this story?"_

_If it were as stupid as they were implying, nothing would be lost. If it gave him any hint, it would be good enough. So, it was only logical to ask them. Murzak grunted and sat down on the floor, elbows supported by the knees. He rested his head on the hand lazily, before gesturing to his more slightly more composed brother._

_"Hey, Tohdak, should we tell the rascal?"_

_By more composed, one should say that he simply wasn't completely slouched on the ground, since Tohdak was relaxing against a wall without any care in the world until his lucky brother questioned him._

_"You were the one who said that we should tell him in the first place, you little shit."_

_Unlike Dayak, Lotor liked to believe that he had already got used to the unlimited amount of voracious curses these two could sum up. He had longed accepted that he would have to live with it, although the boy sometimes still got shy over their heavy language. So, the kid cleared his throat and each twin turned their head to the boy._

_"There is no need to restrain on my behalf; if you two wish to tell this story of yours I would be grateful on hearing it."_

_Murzak, for once, seemed to have a glimpse of entertainment on his glowing yellow eyes. His ears perked up and he grazed his own furry chin._

_"If you say so, you little rascal. When you were born…"_

_Lotor stilled as the luckier twin paused. Tohdak sighed and shifted his weight, his right shoulder resting on the wall. Murzak mockingly made the question again._

_"So, you still want the story time? This isn't going to fucking help you to sleep."_

_The young boy flinched at the venomous words, but then he consciously remembered himself: He already had worse. His curiosity had quieted down and lent space to wariness. But he got too far to stop right there._

_"Yes, I wish for this story of yours."_

_Tohdak sat down, just beside his brother. "Just spit it out," he grunted in annoyance and Lotor swore that the scar twitched. Murzak sounded almost serious for two seconds, before letting out a sigh and continued._

_"All right, you two are no fun. Ok, so when the little rascal right there was born, some rumors started. Rumors about the mouse that had been born of Zarkon's blood. Some said that the witch had cursed the womb of the woman that had the misfortune of carrying him. Others said that the quintessence had poisoned the mother and the child had been born as an abomination. Tohdak, and me of course, we were curious like hell. We were just a teeny bit bigger than you twerp at the time," for emphasis, Tohdak made a gesture with the pointer and the clawed thumb. Lotor was regretting already his decision of hearing the story, but it was no good now to give up. He didn't need to look even more like a weakling in front of these two. "So we were fucking bold. Mad, I would say today. But at the time we were thrilled to see whatever monster had been Zarkon's son. I had heard you were minuscule, barely more than a palm and that your eyes were the color of blood and your hair was as pale as milk! At some point, my brother and I were even trading all kinds of rumors that we heard about you. Tohdak once even heard that they said you had the tail of a rat between your legs, that it was a manifestation of the cowardice and weakness of your blood…"_

_Lotor's ears went down for a second and the boy had to put a conscious effort to raise them up again. He had had worse. It was like a mantra. In the past, others said those things to his face, it had been pretty worse. Tohdak seemed to have some awareness and nudged his brother using the elbow. Murzak growled in response, but continued the story, even if not before shooting a quick glare to his twin._

_"Either way, Father always said that our brains must have been just one before we were born, so we used our brains together, of course! We had to see whatever was so creepy about you. God, you made those big commanders that heard your hideous stories tremble! The half-breed that was Zarkon's son had to be something special then. So we put our plan in action. Odds were, since no one knew anything about your mama, you were still on the medical wing. We knew exactly how to get there and the pace of each sentry that passed by. To get a look on you, little rascal, we even bribed a doctor. A medic! One of the few advantages of having a rich father, I tell you. We planned each step until it finally was the day to do it. Of course, we evaded the sentries with perfection and it was easy to sneak in. The doctor opened the door and unveiled the freak!"_

_Murzak made a gesture with his hands to simulate an explosion and fell to the side. Lotor felt the blood drain from his face. He had to still his hands for a moment there, out of sheer discomfort, trying to stifle the shaking. Tohdak gazed vaguely at his fallen brother and continued the story._

_"What we found was pretty far from our expectations. You were in a sole medical room, in a device to help you survive and with a sole blanket that didn't cover anything. A soft, plump and furless baby. Yeah, you had eyes of the color of blood and your fur flocked in the top of your head and was of this milky shade of yours. You cried and cried like a bitch. It was unholy and I remember Murzak," he pointed to his brother, which was now getting up, apparently more serious than before. "Putting his hands on the ears to cover the sound. But the rest? You weren't even that tiny. Ok, maybe a bit small. But no mouse," Lotor's ears perked up, in a childish hope that was soon stifled by the boy. It was better to hear the story until the end. In a moment, Tohdak got up, pulling his brother up by the arm. The unlucky twin let out a short laugh. "Hell, you didn't even have that fucking rat tail in between your legs. Just a tiny purple cock."_

_Lotor cringed. The vulgarity of these two managed to get to him from time to time. Luckily, no one really wandered close to his quarters that wasn't a sentry. If anyone heard this conversation, the three of them would be severely punished. Tohdak continued "Either way, we felt scammed. Murzak even demanded the money back to the medic. The doctor didn't take him seriously, I don't think he had since the start. But, of course, we had been fooled right there. We had paid to visit a freak, but all we encountered was a half-breed baby. An ugly one. But no one would ever look at that kid and said it was a mouse. I can name a few Galra that are uglier than you right there."_

_Tohdak pointed suggestively to his own twin. Lotor let out a quiet laugh, even if a hesitant one. It was for the best to let them finish the story. Murzak was not exactly happy at the insinuation and manifested quickly by shoving his brother aside and taking the lead in the story._

_"Anyway, after we got the fuck out of your room, the two of us soon discovered that we had memorized the patterns to get into the medical room, but we had no idea how the fuck to get out. It didn't take long for us to be discovered by a sentry of those and have our asses handed to our father. After, like, three hours of scolding, he went out and told one of Zarkon's commanders personally that someone had entered your little room. The next day cycle, all of the medics that were taking care of you were mystically replaced. And that's how the two of us almost got killed."_

_Murzak let out an unrestrained laugh. Lotor tried not to sweat nervously because if someone were out there listening, the three of them would be in terrible trouble. The young boy fiddled with the strand of his short hair as question flied around his wary mind. Had no one looked after him, just that medic?_

_Lotor didn't think highly of himself, but it was one of the situations in which he had the right to be nervous. He was still technically the heir of the Empire, even if his father didn't like the idea. If it weren't these two the ones that entered his room that day, the Prince could have been killed right there. Out of all ironies, now these dimwitted twins had sworn to protect his life. The young half-Galra swallowed and decided to continue, molding his next words with care._

_"So, what does this story has to do with the ‘fun part' that Murzak talked about?"_

_Both of them stilled. Now that was a rare scene. The two of them never seemed bothered by anything that wasn't immediate death threats. Tohdak looked at Murzak. Murzak looked at Tohdak. Then they laughed. The young half-Galra’s eyes widened. A good sign. This was their usual behavior, so maybe they will give him a hint. The lucky twin twiddled with the fur on his chin before cheerfully cutting off Lotor’s hopes._

_“You may have to find that out yourself, little rascal. Maybe they have nothing to fucking do with each other at all.”_

_He winked._

_Lotor tried not to cringe, but the look on his face must have been obvious because Tohdak let out a humored laugh and held on to his brother’s arm. “Let’s go, you shithead, we are already late. And you, twerp, you should go to sleep or something, because if your nanny finds you in the corridors, we are all fucked.”_

_The emphasis on “nanny” made the young Lotor’s face twist. His brow furrowed in a quiet discomfort with the mockery. Still, he corrected them with a snarl on his face._

_“She is my governess.”_

_His soft voice found no ears. The twins were already gone._

_He couldn’t avoid but to quirk an eyebrow in impatience. It was not like he could ever understand something with these two. Of course, they were as stuck with him as he was with them. It’s was just how it was. Bad kids with bad kids._

_He let out a depreciating laugh with his fingers flexing in and out, his claws tickling the palm. At this point, the boy couldn’t help himself anymore. It was a bit unnerving. What before had only been a curious question now had turned into pure nervousness, as he had tried to quell the curiosity of a silly question._

_He crossed his arms and shook his head. Well, Murzak had said about “the fun part” when Dayak was talking about the Kral Zera after Syndok’s reign. So, if he said that at that point in the lesson maybe it had to do with it! The thought lit up the young boy’s mind. The boy let himself smile out of his own idea. The twins’ story was unnerving, of course, but he could handle it. His confidence suddenly wavered, as the inevitable thought passed by his mind: He already had worse. Yes, of course._

_He had worse._

_Out of pure impatience, Lotor turned to his back and raised his clawed hand, opening the door to his room with a single touch. He stomped inside the dimly lighted room, launching against the massive bed in the center of the room as the door made a soft closing sound. The young boy observed as the crimson sheets fell back in place, undulating for a few seconds before settling back in place. He stayed still for a few seconds, glaring the grey ceiling looming above him while grazing his claws in the fabric of the sheets, just to hear the soft ripping noise._

_A few seconds passed like a breeze, before the boy sat down on the edge of the bed, gazing the space beyond his room. His room had a large window that covered the entire wall. It was possible to see the metallic rings that encompassed the Central Command, to observe the ships coming and going, the stars in the horizon twinkling and shining even beyond his expectations. It was indeed quite a view. However, this was not what the boy’s mind was focusing at that moment._

_He was plotting his next step._

_First, he had to try to eat. Although he was not hungry, even after a lesson, it would be unusual for him to not have a meal. Knowing this, the boy was also aware that it would raise some alarm in case Dayak knew that he was out of the room and not sleeping as she had said to, he would be in trouble. So eating was a good enough of an alibi for him._

_Second… He didn’t know. Lotor growled softly in frustration, a broken sound fitting for a pup. It was infuriating to know that he hardly had any other lead. At that point, he wasn’t certain anymore why he wanted to know what were the twins talking about. It was just for the thrill of trying to discover what could have possibly made Dayak hesitate, what made those two buffoons sit for four hours just to try to listen whatever they thought she would say. Although the creepy story about his baby moments made a dent in his resolution, he was already on the track of this idea. It was now or never and he would not yield._

_A soft laugh escaped his lips, as the boy found himself especially proud of his schemes. Of course, he still had no lead to get what he wanted, but it was satisfying to entertain himself on the possibilities._

_Then, a loud knock echoed through the room. He quickly fell from the highs of his plans and turned back to the door._

_The door opened to reveal a servant, holding a plate with his meal. The boy took the plate from his hands, watched as the Galran curled his hand to a fist in the chest, bowing slightly before turning on his heels and walking away. He glanced down at his plate, before settling himself up in the table. It was common for him to eat in his room. Some years in the past, he used to go properly to the dining room, however, after some time of eating alone in a gigantic table, the boy decided it would be for the best if he ate in his room. It spared him of the eerie glances from the servants and the other Galra._

_Since then, it was the same routine. Lessons, food in his room, sleep. Rinse and repeat. Settling himself in the chair, his feet hovering above the floor, Lotor wondered if that was why he was so focused on trying to unravel this little mystery. A quick fix for the boredom. Under these circumstances, he glared at the rich plate of food in front of him. They always brought too much. Meat, spiced with weird stuff from all over the galaxy. Some sort of sustenance that was barely palatable enough. It was not as he didn’t like it, but he had to wondered if that is how much a normal Galran kid would eat._

_His stomach rumbled and he just regretted the idea of not eating at all. Dayak’s lessons were always exhausting and, although he was trying very hard to think straight about his objective, his eyes were hovering back to the food, his mouth watering before he could look away. It did not pass much time before he gave in and picked up the silverware to start eating._

_Luckily, eating also gave him some extra time to think._

_While chewing, Lotor’s mind was set ablaze by the ideas. He knew for a fact that the pair of retainers got mad once Dayak talked about the candidates for the Kral Zera. If he remembers well, those were Vrig, Vokin, and Loksar. The last two were the sons of Syndok himself, one of them being a bastard. The third one was a commander. Lotor couldn’t avoid noticing the uncommon fact. Although officially, anyone worthy can compete in the Kral Zera, it was more common for the heirs of the late Emperor to be the ones taking it._

_Although the Galra Prince knew of his father’s age, well enough to understand that he didn’t plan on dying any soon, he was still trained as if he would have to battle in the Kral Zera. As the heir, the perspective of trying for the throne was a given, so from a tender age, he had been exposed to military training, even earlier than most kids had._

_Not that it has been of any use._

_Lotor bit his tongue, distracted enough by his own thoughts. The coppery taste that settled in his mouth made him lose any appetite he still had. Shaking his head vigorously, the boy leaped out of the chair, trying to force his mind to come back to reality. The boy knew that in the next hours he would have to depart to Feyiv with his two retainers, in order to perform his Ralze Firka. The idea displeased him, not only because it would probably mean that his curiosity would have to wait, but also because of the ritual._

_The Ralze Firka was a ritual performed in Feyiv, the Galran sacred ground, since the days of Brodar, the First, and even before the Galra were a space-faring race, in Daibazaal. In theory, in each day of their name, a child needed to perform a few trials, depending on their age, until they became an adult. In practice, very few Galrans had the luxury or the resources to make a trip annually to Feyiv, so, as the Empire had grown in the last few centuries, it had become the common procedure for the parents to choose a few of the more important years to send their child to Feyiv._

_Of course, Lotor had the “luck” of having the resources to stand in hallowed ground annually._

_In practice, it meant a few days away from Central Command, which was usually a blessing for Lotor, but not in that case. A fang caught on his lip as the boy contemplated his fate. The Ralze Firka was not easy on him and had never been._

_However, to dwell on it wouldn’t help, he told himself._

_It was for the best to continue to try to solve his little mystery if he could. So, the idea was that the twins were focused on the candidates of the Kral Zera, therefore, it had to have a connection between those three. So, since the story from Murzak was, hopefully, just to make Lotor afraid, it would be adequate to gather some information. Information about a specific event in history._

_His ears got up instinctively, as an idea crossed his mind._

_Of course._

_The only place in which he could find information in the Central Command, the library. She keeps a nice amount of history logs and other stuff. Even more, if it was something that the twins expected her to tell… Odds are it is stored in there._

_A sly smile crossed his face, as he savored his plan of conquest. It was childish, but he could not avoid it, as he was still just a boy._

_Another knock on the door._

_He gathered the plate with more than half of the meal intact, opened the door for the servant and handed it over. The Galra did not even look at him in the eyes before turning on his heels and walking away._

_As usual._

_Nothing out of normal. Another smile slipped his way into Lotor’s face, as he tiptoed out of his room. The library was not far and at that time, Dayak should not be there. She should be making one of her pauses or going to sleep. At the very least, that is what the boy hoped._

_It wasn’t that hard to slip past the sentries. He had done it for fun since he was old enough to walk. Moreover, he had a certain pride in his quick steps._

_He had invaded that library a few times, but normally he had no reason to. History was interesting and all, but it wasn’t worth the risk of getting caught. Of course, that day was a bit different. There weren’t even sentries. No one else wandered around this part of the Central Command, so it was an advantage for him._

_The door creaked and slid open, as Lotor’s eyes widened, shoulders tensing with expectation. She should not be there, so there was no problem. A few seconds passed before Lotor let out a breath._

_He walked in, the sound of his faint footsteps echoing in the shelves. He let his fingers touch the diverse devices. Some of what was stored there was more recent, like logs that lit up with a touch. Others looked like they weren’t even digitalized, yellow sheets covered in dust._

_Looking up, the boy had to squint his eyes to understand the labels on each shelf. They had been written in perfect Galra, but it was hard to discern exactly what they said. He could determine the letters however they had no meaning. “Rottz Lagg”, “Skath”, “Zeitz Krigg”… It was useless to try to understand those and he had no time to read the logs either. Sprinting between each row of shelves, Lotor was quickly getting impatient. He had no time for any “Torquin” or “Corzak”._

_He just needed the Emperors section. After some persistence, some words started to make sense. “Daibazaal” and “Feyiv”. Soon, he found the section that said “Emperors”. As he looked up, Lotor found himself staring blankly at an impossibly high shelf, full of logs, clips and all sort of devices that he couldn’t even recognize anymore. The top would have been completely out of reach for an adult Galra, so for a runt half-breed, it was almost a mountain._

_As he looked at the tag in the shelf just beside his feet, the boy’s jaw dropped. “Brodar the First”. To confirm his suspicions, the second from bottom said “Garyte the Spear”. The shelves were arranged in the order of the Emperor. Syndok had been the 28th. Vrig had been the 29th._

_The realization forced Lotor to swallow hard. Still somewhat determinate to find the answer to his impulses, the half-Galra looked up to try to estimate how much he would have to climb. The towering shelves that dwarfed the boy were such a powerful vision, enough that made his chest tighten and the realization that it would be almost impossible for him to reach the top hit him hard. Now with a certain reluctance, he looked to his sides, looking for something that would help him reach it._

_No stairs at all._

_Lotor looked up once more, pressing his lips together as he envisioned the possible fall. It was possible to see which shelf he would have to reach after he recognized the “Sy” in Syndok’s name. Taking a deep breath, Lotor put his hand on the metallic surface, his claws making a rasping noise as he tested his weight on it. As his stubbornness took over, he started the trial._

_He was climbing the shelves._

_It wasn’t uncommon for Lotor to try to climb. It felt like almost second nature to him. He had done it before, in other planets, in some rooms that were high enough. However, he had never had the boldness to go so far and the anxiety wasn’t helping._

_The first four shelves were a chore, as he looked down and questioned his decision. However, the gnawing need to understand what had they been discussing was overwhelming. Throwing caution aside, the boy kept moving up._

_Checking each name in the shelf, Lotor’s eyes glimmered with excitement. The climbing was smooth and surprisingly easy, as long as he did not look down. It was just a smooth sequence of movements. Right arm. Left leg. Left arm. Right leg. Repeat. A fang caught on his lips as he saw the 20th Emperor’s name, anticipation clear in every anxious move. Right arm. Left leg. Left arm. Right leg._

_Lotor could hear the thrumming of his heart, as the 27th Emperor’s shelf was in front of his eyes. Right arm. Left leg. Left arm. Right leg. “Syndok the Unbound”. At that moment, Lotor forgot everything, out of pure excitement. He sucked in a quick breath before his fear settled in and he looked down._

_What if someone walked in?_

_Not that it was probable, but the terror festered deep inside Lotor’s mind. From his advantaged positioning, he could observe almost all of the other rows of memories of the Galra Empire. No one else seemed to be there. Gripping onto the metallic surface anxiously, the boy positioned himself between the shelves, settling in easily. How ironic. His miniature stature was useful._

_The Prince swallowed hard, assaulted by the bitter thought. Shaking his head hard, he proceeded to crawl alongside the logs, touching each slightly to see what it contained. “Political Allies”, “Planets Conquered”, “Offspring”… Finally, “Possible Successors”. The log was a diamond-shaped, purple device that glimmered in the dimly lit library._

_With a light touch, the screen lit up in purple light, revealing the images of the three candidates. Vrig, The Great, a muscular Galra, with blue colored fur. Lotor’s eyes widened as he noticed that this Emperor of the past might have been almost as tall as Zarkon and maybe even as strong. To his right side, Vokin, the legitimate son of Syndok, a scaled, dark-purple Galra, like Zarkon, but clearly smaller, even if he still looked like a tower to Lotor, it was clear that this one wasn’t as strong. However, the last one was the surprise._

_Loskar the Mudblood was a half-breed._

_Lotor’s ears dropped as he absorbed the information. The bastard son of Syndok was as scaly as his pureblooded brother, but strikingly taller and broader, with the scales of a grey shade. However, the most striking features were his muscular tail and a prominent mouth. The jaw was projected outwards, a broad snout revealing a full set of fang that peeked out despite the jaws being closed. His eyes were tiny and round, compared to the bizarrely large head. It was like a hefty set of mismatched pieces._

_It was a fearsome half-breed, but an abomination nonetheless._

_The boy’s eyes focused on the screen, as he decided to dwell on the dreaded possibilities no more. His resolution may falter, but right then his stubbornness managed to force him to slide the screen in order to read the next page. Lotor, faced with a hefty amount of history, started to mutter to himself as he read._

_“The Kral Zera that was organized after the funeral of Syndok the Unbound had as principal candidates Vrig the Great, Loksar the Mudblood and Vokin. The Archivist held the ceremony and extinguished the flame, as the first that tried to climb the stairs was Vokin, Syndok’s son. However, his first contender was his own half-brother. The two battled in the stairs, as Vrig and the other candidates watched. Loskar killed his brother in battle.”_

_The last few words were nothing but whispers, as Lotor’s breath hitched once more. The Kral Zera was an honorable ceremony, one in which it was considered filthy to kill the opponent. It was common that, a few days after the battle, many perished due to the gravity of the injuries or infections. Nevertheless, to stain the stairs with cobalt blue was a profanity and a sign of calamity._

_“Once Vokin died, Vrig was the next to try to stop the Mudblood. The battle dragged on until Vrig stood up and managed to subdue the half-breed. In a skillful display of honor, Vrig the Great spared his opponent’s life. No other tried to walk upon the stairs. Loksar, after being defeated in battle, rallied a group of half-breeds and allied himself with the Rangifer Empire, leading to the events in Lerkut and the massacre of half-bloods within the Galra Empire.”_

_Lotor felt the blood drain from his face, as he dispelled the screen suddenly._

_The boy heard the faintest of the footsteps in the distance._

_Without time to take in the amount of information that he just read, Lotor had to think quickly. If he hid in there, his intentions would have been obvious. It would be hard to explain why he was at this specific shelf and the punishment would be even harsher if he said the truth._

_The boy crawled once more, preparing for the descent. Looking down, the shelf seemed to be even higher than before._

_He shook his head vigorously. It was useless to dwell on it once he was already up. Now the only place he had to go was down._

_First, his left foot on the shelf just below. Holding with both hands, Lotor steadily lowered his body, as the right foot looked for the support. Lotor exhaled slowly, brow furrowed as the sweat dripped on his forehead. Three out of four. It was the golden rule of climbing. Right foot. Left hand. Left foot. Right hand._

_The boy progressed carefully for a few moments until he looked down. Ten shelves to go down. Up until now, Lotor heard nothing more but his own ragged breathing. His arms were already tired due to Dayak’s lessons and, although he was quite stronger than they give him credit for, the boy could already feel his muscles trembling. However, out of stubbornness, Lotor bit his bottom lip, feeling the coppery taste on his fangs, and kept going._

_Then, Lotor felt a light brush of fur on his hand._

_Looking up, he saw a black cat, with its slit pupils glaring into his soul. The witch’s cat._

_It took everything he had to not let go. The small runt faltered, bewitched by the cat, that paced around his hands, grazing its tail on his fingers. It was the witch’s cat. Its skin stretched on its bones, almost as if there was no more muscle or fat to fill this animal._

_If the cat was there-_

_Lotor didn’t have the time to complete the thoughts, as he looked down in disbelief._

_The witch was wandering among the row of shelves. Her hunched frame and dark robes were easy to recognize, even in the distance. She made almost no sound while she walked and it required a sharp focus to hear the faintest of footsteps. As if she was floating in thin air._

_Lotor broke into a cold sweat, letting out a broken gasp in incredulity. He couldn’t imagine a single scenario worse than the one unfolding before his eyes. Even if his father were wandering in this library, it would have been questionable if it would even be as bad._

_He wondered if she could hear his erratic heartbeat. Lotor held his breath and forced himself to look down. If he could get to the ground with no problems, there was a slim chance he could maybe sneak past her and once he was out of the library, he would be scolded for not staying in his room._

_It was a much better perspective._

_So the boy forced himself to look down, trying to kept his anxiety in check. However, it didn’t take much before his scrawny body and fractured mind to betray him. His left foot slipped in the metallic surface and Lotor quickly broke into a panic as he soon noticed that his right foot wasn’t as secure as he thought. The boy let out a groan of surprise as he found himself holding on by his arms, with his legs hanging vulnerably, trying to hold himself on._

_Lotor glanced up, as he heard a rustle just above him. Somehow, the cat was just above him once more, but it wasn’t looking at him. It was looking down, to the side, glaring at it with such intensity that could not be natural._

_As the boy felt a shiver run down his spine, he followed the cat’s gaze._

_Just to find himself glaring into the glowing, yellow eyes’ of the witch._

_He didn’t even notice the dread filling his body until his fingers slipped._

_The fall was quick, as felt the shock of the collision in his entire body. However, even trying to reposition his hands to diminish the impact, he slammed his chin to full force on the ground. The impact sends vibrations alongside his jaw, forcing his mouth shut and making an alarming noise, the teeth colliding with each other. He could smell the blood, its wetness running down his chin._

_But there was no time to think._

_Lotor quickly got up with his elbows, even if his arms were still protesting from the strains they had to endure. His cobalt blue eyes darted across the room, only to see that the witch seemingly had not moved. Her glowing eyes were still staring deeply into his mind, scorching his resolution._

_He could hear a droplet of blood falling onto the floor, but the boy did not dare to look at it. Instead, he was staring right into her eyes, ready to bolt out with the smallest of moves. Several seconds passed, as he was unable to speak._

_Her eyes narrowed to yellow slits. Twitching. Close as she was, he could see the crimson red markings running down her face, her angular chin and the pointy, long ears just beside her mane of white hair. Her mouth opened as if to say something, but not a single word was uttered. As Lotor began to relax his tense muscles, his mind running a myriad of possible excuses, she reached out her clawed, blue hand towards him._

_At that point, the boy abandoned all reasoning and sprinted away from her, his face twisted in utter panic._

_The row of shelves, the glimmering logs, the library was all a shapeless blur as Lotor darted out of the place, closing the door behind him and running through the corridors, ignoring the sentries, the passing soldiers, the servants passing by without a second glance._

_In a flashing moment, the boy found himself catching his breath with his back turned to his chambers’ door. Blue blood was running down his chin, the only proof that this dreadful nightmare had just happened. Lotor’s hands were trembling and the boy had to stop consciously the shaking._

_Lotor shook his head vigorously, trying to dispel the frightful thoughts slipping his way into his mind. It was already done, there was nothing he could do. Still quivering, the boy made his way across the room to the bathroom. Now that the adrenaline was down, the sharp pain on his chin and the soreness of his muscles were obvious. Pain was your teacher, wasn’t it?_

_The little boy gritted his teeth and entered the bathroom._

_During the shower, the half-Galra’s mind was trying to piece together the information he had just received, but his mind was always darting out, expecting a knock on his door._

_He had transgressed, so soon there would be a servant to call on him to his father._

_Worse, the witch had witnessed his misbehavior. There wasn’t a chance after he had cowardly ran off, that she wouldn’t tell his father. It was impossible to deny, with the deep, fresh cut on his chin being the undeniable proof of his disobedience._

_Soon, his body was clean, the fresh wound still hurting, but his mind was restless. The boy picked up fresher clothes, his eyes darting out to the door expectantly. As he dressed up, he bit his lips, wondering why they were taking so long. It was not possible that she didn’t tell his father. So, someone should take him to his father to receive proper punishment._

_Yet, the boy paced uneasily in his room for several minutes; unable to concentrate on the tiny mystery he had taken for himself._

_His fist curled and uncurled agitatedly, his claws grazing his palm, as a tiny flicker of hope lit up inside him. It was senseless, he knew. But maybe, just maybe, she didn’t tell him. This raised more questions than anything else, but the perspective of not getting penalized for his deviation was so tantalizing for the small boy, that he cautiously permitted himself to hold on to it._

_Still eyeing the door, Lotor made his way to the bed, tucking in the crimson-colored sheets. His ears were perking up, as he tensed every time a sentry passed by, just relaxing when the footsteps faded into the distance._

_Then, he heard the rustling of the sheets._

_Darting up, he found himself glaring once more into the cat’s eyes. Kova, that was the name. Kova was stretching in the corner of the massive bed, idly grazing its claws into the fabric._

_Lotor suspiciously analyzed the animal’s movement. There was no way the cat was there without its owner, but there was also no reason for the witch to be in his room. The boy tried to focus on hearing the faint footsteps in the distance, but beyond his room, there was just silence. Not even any sentries passing by._

_The cat closed the distance, walking closer to him languidly, seemingly unaware of the boy’s discomfort. Lotor sucked on a breath, as the cat suddenly stretched its paw towards his face. He shut his eyes, not knowing what to expect. A second passed before Lotor mustered the courage to open his eyes. The cat was playing, trying to grasp the forelock that hanged in front of the boy’s face._

_At that point, Lotor relaxed his tense shoulders, exhaling. The boy sat upright, as the cat’s eyes followed the movement of the forelock with this unnatural focus. With a childish curiosity, the boy reached out his hand, even if hesitantly, towards the cat. Before he could even touch the animal, Kova rubbed his cheek on Lotor’s hand, drawing a small smile out of the little boy._

_The sensation of the orange fur on his hand was pleasant and Lotor ran his hand through the extension of Kova’s body, as the animal stretched around it, meowing loudly. The cat pounced on Lotor‘s lap, making its way the boy’s shoulders. The boy built up a tentative smile, as the cat proceeded to bop its head against his hair._

_In a fluid motion, Kova jumped off his shoulders, landing on the bed and looking expectantly at Lotor. The animal was pawing at the fabric, tucking in the crimson sheets. The boy seemed to understand the cat’s inquiry and responded accordingly._

_“Of course, we should sleep now.”_

_The word “we” rolled through Lotor’s tongue in a different, albeit not unpleasant, way. He relaxed once more, forgetting for an instant, as the nervousness went down, the lessons, Murzak and Tohdak’s story, even his encounter with the witch. He opened his mouth, letting out a yawn, as he blinked quickly._

_The boy tucked himself in the sheets, surprised as a soft ball of fur came to curl on his back. For this single moment, as drowsiness won over his tired body, he forgot who he was in that universe, that he was the son of Zarkon, a deity to some, a tyrant for other, and that all of those mentioned hated him because of his very blood._

_For a few hours, the little boy slept soundly, as not a single knock on his door came to disturb him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments are appreciated!!


	3. Condolences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, thanks for all the kudos and comments!! Enjoy my somewhat self-indulgent fix-it fic.

The water clashed loudly with the white tiles.

Lotor blinked slowly, unaware of how long had passed. Reaching for the handle, the Galra Prince turned the water off and expressionlessly observed as the water subsided. Setting the soap aside, he stepped out of the shower, letting the cold air graze his damaged skin. The water didn’t have any special proprieties, but it might as well had for how much better his body felt. 

Mechanically, the Galra Prince picked up his undergarments and his armor. Dirty, but usable. Although he would rather be on his best shape overall, it was a luxury he didn’t have at the moment. So, he put his clothes back on, a quick rustle back into his usual form. Picking up his faithful sword, he left the bathroom and its mirror behind.

Now that his hair dripped tiny droplets of water on the floor, he felt oddly unfocused. His mind did not concentrate on anything at all, something unusual, but not entirely unpleasant after the assault of his old, dusty memories. Releasing a deep, weighted sigh, Lotor looked back into his temporary quarters. The holographic display flickered and lit up, revealing a message. Narrowing his eyes, he approached the device with a certain caution on his eyes and let the message play out.

 

 

> Hello, Prince Lotor.  
>  We will be soon landing on the Capitol of the Voltron Coalition, Olkarion.  
>  In any case, as I said, you are free to roam on the Castle, although I would recommend, in case you wish to roam Olkarion itself, you should go alongside one of the other Paladins or myself.  
>  Princess Allura of Altea.
> 
>  

With a wave, he dispelled the screen, letting the new information sink in. Olkarion was a highly advanced planet, with their technology being comparable to the Altean one. As of now, it should be nestled deep in the Coalition territory, so it was harder, albeit not impossible, for a Galran Fleet to attack. Therefore, it should be safe enough.

He held onto the grip of his sword, wondering if he should bring it along or not. The cold steel was a comfort, even if a fake one, but he chastised himself for this kind of thinking, before dispelling the weapon into the realm it was stored. His instincts were demanding that he should bring the weapon with him, but they spoke to him in an old, dry voice. From time to time, when these ideas attempted to dominate him, he felt a certain pleasure in denying himself this desire.

Not even his own mind would subdue him.

The stubbornness had taken cover inside him, lying in a trench of selfish denial. He would wash with acid any hesitation that struggled inside. Especially any memory of his late father. The time when Zarkon reigned supreme was over and so he had to bury all of his resentment alongside him. Right at that moment, as Lotor stood tall and proud, roaming in an Altean castle, hearing its soft humming, and the Galra Prince wished to feel the satisfaction of the conquest. The thrum of his victory, as he smirked to himself.

It was not because of Zarkon’s death, in and on itself, as he had expected for such an uncountable amount of time, but because of the window of opportunity that had opened. One that could only appear once in a lifetime. His eyes narrowed, the sheer determination spreading like wildfire in his veins. It was a burning blaze he could not extinguish, that had cauterized many of his wounds before; leaving scars that would never fade away from his memory.

Lotor quietly savored his renewed determination, wandering the hallways. Brushing his fingers on the walls, just to feel on his palms the ship that almost seemed alive, the half-Galra let out a dark chuckle, trying to get calmer as he thought about the future on his door.

 

* * *

 

 

“By the way, I want my headphones back.”

Lance let out a yelp, trying to grasp the controller that almost slipped away from his grasp. Since when did she know? The question dropped like a bomb in his mind, as his eyes ran around, scanning something to focus on that wasn’t the tiny girl that now he was certain that knew he had stolen her stuff.

“Um, I have no idea what the quiznak you blabbering about.”

His fingers fumbled with the controller, before casting a sideways glance to guarantee Pidge wasn’t glaring at him. The girl seemed to be pretty focused on the screen in front of her, eyes glassy behind the lenses while she ferociously fumbled with the controller. A few strands of short hair were right in front of her eyes, but she didn’t bother to put them back, sitting crossed legged on the floor as she was. Suddenly, Lance almost jumped out of his skin as she yelped.

“Lance, the game-“

“Defeat. Do you want to restart?”

The machine’s grave voice echoed in Pidge’s messy room, as the silence stood between the two teenagers. As the yes or no options floated on the screen, Lance lowered his gaze, before letting out a self-depreciating laugh. Hoping to mend the situation, the boy turned his head to her, finding out that she was still staring at the motionless screen.

“Well, um…”

Pidge dropped shamelessly the controller on the floor, before crossing her arms and shooting Lance a deadly gaze. The boy averted her stare, raising his hand to scratch his neck in shame. A few seconds passed before Pidge deadpanned. “Well, what?”

Lance shifted on his weight before he actually got the question to its fullest. He glanced up at her, to find that she was still serious and cross. Biting on his bottom lip, the boy opened his arms, gesturing with the controller in hand. “Well, it’s not my fault if you can’t play right.” Even so, he shoots a glance to Pidge, who seems overall unimpressed by his act.

The girl then threw her arms into the air, shrugging off the issue. She let herself fall into the messy floor, hitting her head on a dismantled robot doing so.

“Man, we were so close to reaching our record.”

She stares at the ceiling, letting out a heavy sigh. She eyes him with the corner of the eye, only half-jesting as she speaks up to an obstinate Lance. “You know, like this, I will have to find another game partner. Someone on my skill level.” Now that pulls a tug on Lance’s heart.

“Um? C’mon, I’ve worked to get this game as much as you did.”

His arms fells to the sides, letting the controller fall clumsily from his hand on the floor. He squinted her eyes at her, before crossing his arms at her idle expression. “Well, if you plan on playing with someone else, who would that be? That would be oh-so-much better than me?”

Pidge raises her eyebrows at the question, just noticing how that might actually be an option. Her fingers raised in the air, counting the possibilities. A few seconds passed, as she pondered before Lance cocked an eyebrow at her. “You cannot be considering this.”

Pidge’s face lit up, as she got up with a sudden motion. “Of course.” Her eyes lit up, the brownish tone of her eyes lighting up like stars. “Matt.” Lance as about to complain, raising his finger in opposition, but backed out on the last second. It actually kind of made sense. Pidge didn’t even seem to notice, a tentative smile building up on her face. “I haven’t even shown him the game yet. If anyone else can play that will be him.”

She said the words with such determination in her words that it was hard for Lance to complain back. A moment passed, with Pidge’s face lighting up in hope, she looked down to the boy that still seemed to be sitting on the floor. The girl let out a sigh, reaching her hand for him. He cast a wary, sideways glance to her hand then turned his gaze to her.

“And why should I help you to get a brand new game partner?”

He put some extra emphasis on the “I” and “You”, pointing to each of them with extra sarcasm in his words. Pidge let out a light chuckle, still too happy with her revelation to let herself be bothered with Lance’s pettiness.

“Well, C'mon, he might even play with you when I’m working.”

Lance seemed totally unimpressed by her remark, crossing his arms and turning his face away from the helping hand. “Hm, if that doesn’t appeal to you…” She trailed off, shrugging as Lance looked at her over his shoulder before continuing with a new offer. “… Maybe you could keep my headphones for a little longer.”

His eyes lit up curiously, as he considered his options. Lance let out a thinking noise before turning back to her, uncrossing his arms as he questioned. “For…How… longer?” He noticed his mistake as soon as she grinned impishly.

“So you admit that you picked up my headphones.”

Lance let out a loud groan of frustration as he tries to escape her trap.

“Of course not. Nope, not happened. I’m just saying that in case you ever, like, find them in your mess.”

For effect, the boy brushed a few wires that were audaciously on the floor, before glancing up at her again.

The cat-like smile on her face dissipated into a more genuine one, as she decides to just drop the issue and play his game.

“Well, so, in case, I, like, ever find my headphones, you may keep them for a while. That’s a deal?”

She holds her hand to him again, cocking an eyebrow inquisitively. Lance, this time, let out a heavy sigh and took her hand, getting up in a single motion. He huffed, before rolling his eyes. “Fine.”

Pidge was already turning off the video game, before running off to the door. She spared Lance a glance before he let out a lighthearted chuckle and followed her out of the messy room to look for her brother.

 

* * *

 

 

Allura let out a sigh, releasing her hand from the control pods.

It was nice to fly in the Castle of Lions. It had always left her a bit lightheaded; however, she stopped minding a long time ago. The sensation of the ship on her fingers was pleasant and familiar. For more than half her life, she had piloted this ship. Not always so gracefully, she let out a quiet laugh, remembering the old times in which she had almost crashed one of Altea’s greatest inventions.

“Princess?”

Coran’s voice shook her out of her thoughts, as she raised her gaze to meet with her advisor’s. The man was already twirling his mustache in happiness as he continued. “We’ve finally reached Olkarion, Princess. Now we can finally get some rest.” He averted his gaze to the ground, letting go of the tip of his mustache as he continued. “After all, so much happened in so little time…” He trailed off, unable to find the words fitting for the occasion.

Allura let herself smile at his words. Although it was hardly a happy smile per say, it was a hopeful one. “Of course, Coran.” She observed as the ship landed on Olkarion, the vast green of the horizon mixing itself with the technological buildings. She let her vision trail off, savoring the view for a little while, before continuing talking. “I will be staying on the ship for some time longer. You should go with the Paladins. I’m sure Ryner will be happy to talk with all of you.” She blinked slowly, before looking back at Coran.

Her Advisor noticed the hesitance lingering in her words and answered accordingly, turning away from the control panel to face the Princess. “Is everything okay, Princess?” His worried voice was both a blessing and a curse to Allura. After all, although it was indeed comforting to know Coran was by her side, she couldn’t help but feel her heart clenching with the mere idea of confessing her confused feelings right then and there.

Instead, she let him down with a small smile. “I’m fine, thank you, Coran. It’s just that prefer to be resting on the Castle.” She gestured to the view just in front of them, the trees wavering alongside the breeze, the enormous constructions of life and metal that the Olkari seemed so fond of. “Even if it’s a beautiful place like this. So perhaps you and the Paladins should explore it a bit.”

If Coran noticed her reticence, he had the politeness of not letting it show. He nodded in response, voice a bit strained as he responded. “Ok. Stay well, Allura.”

With those last words, Coran left her be, on the bridge of the Castle of Lions. Allura let out a heavy sigh, dropping her shoulders. With a wave, she dispelled the screen, letting darkness loom. She could easily lit up the place, but choose not to. It wasn’t the moment.

Zarkon was dead.

On the bridge of her ship, on the darkness she willingly let consume the place, the realization sank in. The Lord of the Known Universe, the man that destroyed her home and murdered her father was dead. Allura paced around, trailing the pad of her fingers on the controls. She knew them by heart, what every single one of those buttons and keys did. Familiar, yet so distant.

The Emperor of the Galra Empire was dead.

The thought echoed in her head, as she paced around in her ship. It was such a distant idea that had become reality. Yet she couldn’t exactly place how she felt about it. They had defeated him before, yet not only Lotor took his place, proving to them that the problem wasn’t only Zarkon but also Zarkon himself indeed came back and pulled this betrayal on all of them.

She let out a heavy sigh, furrowing her brows. The issues on the case were the other Galra and Lotor himself. She had lent the Prince one of the temporary quarters. Due to his high-rank status, she expected some sort of bad reaction, however, he was pretty docile overall, surprisingly so for a Galra. He had been quiet in most of their small walk, even feeling comfortable enough to walk around armed with her, never making a sudden move.

The girl rested her chin on her hand as she pondered about their unusual ally. He had already proven to be both dangerous and willing to work with them, contradictory enough to raise suspicion, but if he really had intentions for peace, they maybe could work together. Although it was hard to place where he would fit in the grand scheme of things.

He was the Prince of the Galra Empire. Despite the proof claimed with the blood on his hands, he also had the same blood on his veins. Allura pressed her lips together, conflicted in her beliefs. She stopped her pacing around, forcing herself to address the most urgent issue. The other Galra.

If Lotor had taken the throne before, other Galra could do the same, although she wasn’t aware of how exactly the Royal Lineage functioned within the Galra Empire. If they were lucky, the disruption caused by the Emperor’s death would be lasting enough for the Voltron Coalition to stabilize itself within Galran territory.

However, if their ambition were any close to Zarkon’s, the fighting would never stop.

The grim thought hovered on Allura’s mind until a rustle of tiny paws halted it. She smiled, as her shoulders relaxed with the appearance of her most faithful subjects. They climbed through her back, all four of them, squeaking in happiness, before resting on her right shoulder. “Oh. Hello, you sneak, where have you all been?”

She turned her head towards the mice, as they jumped off her shoulders towards the control panel. The smallest one, Chulatt, squeaked demanding, pointing its tiny paw towards Allura, who retreated her hands to her chest in a curious surprise. The remaining three organized themselves in a pose, as the tiny one jumped on top of Platt. Softness took over Allura, as she realized what her small friends had been asking of her.

“Of course, how could I have forgotten? We have defeated Zarkon, so I should take you four on the road. Looks like you haven’t lost your talent.”

The promise had been made some time ago, when she was alone the same way, in this same place. She reached out her hand for them, as Plachu squeaked demurely, happy with the praise. The four were about to jump on Allura’s palms when they suddenly came to a halt. Chuchule squinted its little red eyes to the door, before scattering alongside its partners.

Allura retreated her hand to her chest, holding her wrist, offended by the mice behavior. How rude. Until the door opened and even with her back turned, she stiffed, knowing exactly who had come to her.

A filament of surprise came to her, soon schooled back into back into submission as she recomposed. In a flick of expertise, she decided to play a bit of his game. Allura turned back slowly, like a warrior preparing for the battle of wills that she felt was soon to come, like all the other times he had tried to convince her to his side.

However, what she faced broke her determination.

Prince Lotor standing at her door, yet he had not the boldness of entering the bridge, waiting with his hands behind his back politely. Caught off guard, Allura stared at him in open curiosity. His grave, baritone voice broke the silence first. “Do I have permission to enter, Princess?”

His voice held a formality that was unmistakable, probably due to his princely upbringing. Allura pressed her lips together, as she took in the question he made. Although her Bayard was always on her reach and he did not seem to be armed, she couldn’t help the unease of staying on the ship alone with a Galra, worse, Zarkon’s son, out of all of them.

She chastised herself for the line of thinking. The man that now stood calmly in front of her had been the one to bring Zarkon’s demise, even if he was also his child. That should be enough to prove his peaceful intentions, no matter the blood on his veins. At the very least, that was what she wished to think.

“Yes, of course, you may enter.”

She gestured to the room, as he nodded, docile. Lotor walked in with the grace of a predator, although Allura could see the tenseness in his shoulders, even if his face betrayed nothing.

“I wish to discuss our next steps.” He stood just in front of her, minding his distance with respect. His words were meticulously chosen and Allura couldn’t avoid but draw back from them. The Princess could hear, in the slowness of his cadence, the calculations behind it. She squinted her eyes but nodded for him to continue. “Although it is undeniable that, since my father is dead, the Empire will be disturbed and in conflict, we cannot hope that it will last much longer.”

His words stung, as they confirmed Allura’s fears. Her respite would be short-lived. The Princess crossed her arms demurely, as she swallowed, taking in the information in hands. Taking a deep breath, she stared deep into his yellow gaze, fighting his determination with her own.

“And I assume you do have a plan.”

It wasn’t a question and both parties knew it. Lotor sustained her gaze as he let his arms fall to the sides, answering with meticulous care. “Yes,” he said, his velvety voice echoing in the otherwise silent ship. “And, as I said, I do wish to discuss it with you, Princess.”

Although his words still held a calculated lilt, his cobalt eyes had no trace of deceit or manipulation. That took Allura by surprise, even though she tamed this feeling within a careful expression. Prince Lotor had not been deceitful until now. He had made clear as crystal all of his intentions.

Allura took in her own realization with caution. His words had the dance of the elusive, obfuscating his true goals. Nevertheless, he had never lied. She held onto her silence, as Lotor’s compliant, yet firm gaze waited for her response. She sighed the words, averting her eyes to the control panel. “Of course. Although I had given the Paladins permission to wander around Olkarion, I will call them back,” she shot him a glance, analyzing him, but he had not made a move. “As this news is of utmost importance.”

His eyes studied her, a flash of some unreadable emotion flickering and dying inside his cobalt blue eyes. But he said nothing and neither did she. Instead, Allura faced the control panel, the communicator wavering and forming into the images of each Paladin and her Advisor. Allura cleared her throat before she kept going.

“Hello, Paladins. I know I had given you all a break…”

Pidge was alongside Matt, Sam, and Lance, as Hunk, Shiro and Coran had stayed together. Allura put her hands together in front of her chest, before continuing under the gaze of all eight pairs of eyes. Allura let out a bittersweet smile as she continued.

“But perhaps we will have some things to discuss as of now.”

Pidge averted her gaze towards Lotor, who had kept himself quiet and scoffed. She had a clearly more intelligence than Lance, who almost voiced his complaints before Shiro cut off even on the other communicator.

“Of course, Princess Allura. We will all be going back soon,” The Black Paladin sighed before continuing, already knowing how his other team members would react. ”Regardless of who we will be hearing.”

Pidge had the decency of not responding, although the same could not be said about Lance.

 “Hey, I didn’t say anything.”

Shiro sighed through the screen, as Pidge let out a small laugh, as Lance himself didn’t notice his mistake. Allura cast a sideways glance towards Lotor, but he was as expressionless as before. It was the most inadequate for the Paladins to keep treating Lotor as if he was still their prisoner. So, Allura stepped up.

“So, until then. I hope you all will be back soon, Paladins.”

The words felt hollow as she dispelled the communication screen altogether, turning then to face the Galra Prince. Lotor was still glancing up, motionless for a few seconds before he looked down, to the panels, grazing the pad of his fingers on the controls. To her surprise, Lotor spoke up.

“They do have a surprisingly good grasp of Tetlam.”

Allura arched her brows at that. Tetlam was the lingua franca of the known universe, a sort of trade language that had been around for long before she was even born. She didn’t know much about its history specifically, but it was well-known enough to the point that it was assumed that most people knew some of it. She had assumed that it became even more common now that the Galra Empire was so widespread. Lotor seemed to notice her reticence and elaborated.

“I am aware that your Paladins hail from a place called Earth. It is a confidential archive within the Empire that the Blue Lion was identified there, alongside the first report of Lion activity.”

Tilting his head, Lotor turned to face Allura, his voice docile, yet steady as he continued. “Considering how far this planet is and how it doesn’t seem to have any significant space-faring weaponry, or it would be otherwise explained on the reports, I think it’s fair to assume that your Paladins did not know any Tetlam when they came here. Am I correct?”

Allura narrowed her eyes, as she pondered about what she had just heard. He was not wrong. Although Shiro already had a stable conversational Tetlam due to his time in the Gladiator Pits, the others had to rely on the translation provided by a built-in system within their suits and their Lions until she and Coran stepped up on their learning.

Although Allura was alarmed because of his sagacious analysis of the Paladins, she couldn’t avoid but notice the honesty in his voice. The words had the natural fluidity she couldn’t help but notice how lacking it was in their previous conversations. She let herself smile at this and answered to him accordingly.

“Mostly correct. Shiro already had some knowledge of it previously. Apparently, Tetlam bears a striking resemblance to their native language, so that most certainly helped a little.”

Lotor let out an appreciative chuckle, but Allura wasn’t certain if she had imagined a flash of softness sparkling in his cobalt eyes before he blinked slowly, closing himself off once more.

“I understand.” His solemn voice resonated in Allura’s mind, as she gazed at him with wary curiosity. “I shall wait for their appearance, then.” He nodded slightly, before turning on his heels and walking away from the control panel. The Princess followed him with the eyes, as she paused to examine him. Lotor walked with purpose and his steps did not bore the heaviness of most Galra. On the contrary, the Prince was most certainly very light on his feet, to the point in which he barely made a sound in the lonely ship. Like a panther stalking its prey, she had to remind herself.

Tilting her head, her eyes widened slightly as he stopped close to the control pads, the very ones she used to steer the ship. A few seconds passed as he stood still, with his eyes focused on an invisible horizon, his posture rigid with his hands folded on his back. Allura instinctively raised her hand, her breath hitched on its tracks as if to break the uncomfortable silence, but Lotor was faster.

“I’m afraid that I must warn you that this is far from over.” He turned his head to her, his yellow gaze filled with some sort of unreadable emotion. “Although I do not think you will truly relax until you achieve peace, I must warn you that,” he made a short pause in his words, something that took Allura by surprise. Although his face betrayed nothing, he had just hesitated. “Despite my triumph over my father, my previous, temporary position should prove to you that the Galra will not hesitate on passing the throne along. So, I hope you can pardon my urgency, but the circumstances are the most dire.”

His emphasis on the word “triumph” held a cadence of some unreadable, palpable emotion. Allura nodded in response and slowly let her hand fall to her side, her lips parting ever so slightly in deep thought. It was easy to forget that the man in front of her had just murdered his own father. It was Zarkon, of course, but as Lotor averted his gaze to the machine, his brows furrowing even deeper than usual and his lips parting to let out a deep sigh, she couldn’t avoid but to sympathize with him.

Allura did not expect Zarkon to have treated his son any better than he treated the rest of the universe, as made evident by the very deal he tried to strike with the Paladins. Even so, she had, in the most different of circumstances, to put her father down the same way. Even knowing that the AI was nothing but a pale shadow of the man Alfor was, Allura winced in pain, remembering the fateful day she had to put him down.   

Zarkon might have never been a good father, but Lotor was the blood of his blood regardless.

What before had been an atmosphere of wary peace between the two, soon turned sour as Allura held on to her silence, deep in thought about the Prince in front of her and the seemingly unavoidable perspective of more fighting. Lotor, apparently either unaware or indifferent of the Princess’ reticence, turned his head expectantly towards the door.

The Paladins were indeed taking their time.

She followed his gaze towards the entrance, but a few seconds passed and no one made their way through the room. Suddenly, Lotor took for himself a seat in the small stairs leading to the control pads. Allura quirked an eyebrow at that. Not that she was particularly troubled by his actions, but because of his sudden lack of grace. Up until that moment, he had been watchful, even paranoid, of her reactions to anything he did.

Allura walked over to him, head tilted in inquisitiveness, but without ever forgetting her own wariness. This man, taking a seat on her ship, was the Galra Prince, who had more than proved to be a dangerous opponent both against her and her friends, but to the Emperor Zarkon himself. She squinted her eyes, wondering what passed on the head of this mysterious predator. The Princess soon decided she didn’t have to know.

The two of them were allies now.

Just like with Keith before him, she could come to trust him properly. With time and his collaboration, they might even be friends. And upon this decision, she concentrated her resolve, taking in a slow, deep breath. In case she ever planned to have him as a true ally, Allura would have to forsake her personal issues.

After all, if she was going to ever depend on him, as he seemed to have a plan, she was going to have to put some trust in him first.

The Princess approached him, her guarded interest increasing at every step she took, as he didn’t move at all. He looked like a gargoyle made out of granite, every stiff muscle looking like it was sculpted directly from stone. Lotor hunched over his frame, forearms supported on his thighs as his hands rested intertwined.

As soon as she was within arm’s reach, his cobalt gaze snapped to her, his head barely moving with the movement. Although her breath hitched as soon as his yellow gaze burned through her, she did not flinch from his snare. Allura obstinately refused to flinch on those circumstances. Instead, her blue eyes met his own, responding to him with the same flames.

However, with the same speed as he had locked on her, his gaze went back to some distant, unfocused point on the infinity.

The Princess’ eyebrows arched up as she was confused whether it was a good sign or not. Taken by surprise, Allura shook her head slowly and kept walking, but she never took her eyes off him. The Princess passed right beside him, but he barely seemed to be even breathing, never mind moving to regard her presence.

Upon his odd behavior, she crossed her arms and looked expectantly at the door. The Paladins were most definitely late. “They should be here any minute,” Allura said, a strain of impatience slipping in her voice. Lotor finally spoke up.

“Good. There is much to discuss,” he declared somberly, face as still as stone. Allura turned to face him, taken by surprise that he had finally decided to spoke up, but his terse expression was blatant enough to tug on Allura’s heartstrings.

“Are you alright?” The question spurted out of Allura’s mouth before she could even think about it. But she didn’t regret it.

His eyes didn’t even move to meet hers as the Prince answered.

“I’ll be fine,”

Unlike Lotor’s usual, meticulous speech, his grave voice was tense. His pupils squinted in cat-like slits. Just like she had thought before. Maybe, even if he had been as cruel with his son as he had with the universe, Zarkon was still his father. And this terse, rigid man in front of her had just committed patricide for the sake of the universe.

Her eyes softened and even if Allura knew that her words may not have much effect, but, as she had said to herself, if she wanted Lotor, the hunted Prince of the Galra Empire, to ever trust her, she would have to put her personal spitefulness aside and offer her trust first.

“What you did was for the greater good,” the Altean tilted her head slightly and let herself smile for a bit. “And, for many of us, proof of your intentions for peace,” she carried, on those last words, a way to provide comfort for him. Maybe she didn’t know how, but Allura was focused on making this man in front of her an ally, even if a wary one. In addition, if comfort for his sins were what he needed, maybe she would be able to provide him a quick respite.

He raised his head to her, but his gaze was inscrutable. His eyes quickly snapped towards the door, as the buzz of the door as it finally opened and he rose to his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has always been weird to me how in the start of Postmortem, Lotor and Allura are together on the bridge, apparently very tense and Allura is suddenly somewhat soft towards him. I mean, he surely doesn't receive this special treatment from any of the other Paladins and Lotor is attractive and all, but Lance'd commentary of "Look, its Lotor just hanging out on the bridge" implied that this was a first time. So I had to dig a bit deeper into it and I hope y'all enjoyed it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a shamelessly excuse for romance for my otps, drama, worldbuiding and Lotor prequel.  
> I've got no regrets.


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